


"Thanks for not making a fuss"

by Kate88



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Nightmares, Robin drinks tea at any time of night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kate88/pseuds/Kate88
Summary: Strike tries not to make a fuss.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 16
Kudos: 83





	"Thanks for not making a fuss"

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! First Strike fanfiction alert. I've been lurking and reading for ages, trying to satisfy the slow burn. I'm working on something longer, but this wandered into my head fully formed. Hopefully it's an acceptable ice-breaker!

He’s stayed up too late reading her notes from the surveillance job she had been out on that afternoon. It’s tempting to wake her when the whimpering starts, but he remembers the last time he did that, and the hours it had taken her to return to sleep after. 

He sits beside her in bed, re-reading the same five bullet-points and wishing painful dismemberment on a man who had once worn a gorilla mask, until she eventually bolts upright, hands clawing at her throat and sweat in her hairline.

He slips quietly from bed, the sound of gasping breaths following him down the stairs.

He makes tea in the little kitchen in their office, in deference to the request she made not long after she started spending the night. Space is important to her. Privacy vital. She’s as self-reliant as he is. Fussing doesn’t help. Surely he can understand that?

Fill kettle. Boil kettle. Add teabag to mug. Add water to mug. Stir. Add milk. More milk than that- she prefers very milky tea in the middle of the night. Squeeze teabag. Tip teabag into bin. The familiar pattern is comforting, pours oil on the churning water of impotent anger.

He’s glad he doesn’t hear crying as he heaves himself back up the stairs. He’s discovered he finds tears difficult not to fuss over.

“Tea”. He presses warm mug into cool hands. Her breathing is still ragged, but slower now.

“Thanks”.

They sit silently in the orange light cast by the streetlamp outside. Robin sips her tea, mug clasped between two hands. She’s still taking slow, deliberate breaths.

“You okay?”. 

It’s not fussing to ask.

She nods. “I shouldn’t have read that witness report after dinner”.

He makes a mental note to keep that stuff out of the flat when she stays over but doesn’t vocalise it. 

It’s not fussing to think of her comfort.

She finishes her tea, setting the mug on the floor. He slides back under the duvet and she scoots up beside him, tucking herself under his out-stretched arm. 

“I don’t want to go back to sleep just yet”.

“Okay”.

They lie in silence. Her breathing deepens. She feels cold now that the sweat has cooled on her skin. He holds her a bit tighter. Presses a kiss into the top of her head.

“Cormoran?”. He thought she’d fallen asleep after all.

“Mm?”

“Thanks for not making a fuss”.


End file.
